The End's Beginning
by too addicted to fiction
Summary: You start to care too much. You start to fall too hard. And you start to think that there might be a reason you've wound up together here in the first place. Anthology of one-shots. Eventual Bellarke.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys, let me preface this by saying that I am absolutely a Bellarke girl through and through, but last night's midseason finale gave me a lot of feels and reminded me how much I liked Finn in the beginning. I just sort of had to get this out (and shout-out to my beta reader S.B. who encouraged me to post), and it's just a quick one-shot. If you like Bellarke, check out my other fic "Entropy."

Disclaimer: I don't own The 100 or its characters.

Warning: Spoilers for the midseason finale "Spacewalker."

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><p><span>The End's Beginning<span>

When you first meet him, you think he's irresponsible, irritating. Incorrigible, for lack of a better word. He's trying to impress you, trying to show off, and you don't know why he's picked you, but you're over it almost instantly, and you demand that he take a seat, that he back off. And because of his irresponsibility, two others are affected, lost in the sea of ignorant and heady teens that wind up in that godforsaken place you now have to call a home.

You're alone here. You never really belonged, but you think about the best way to survive, to thrive, and you know that you have to be an adult if nobody else will be. You need to get food. You need to make sure there's sustenance. The human body can only live for three days without water, and a little over a week without food. You know this because you know the human body. You're a medic, or a medic-in-training, or you were before you were arrested for some crime they call treason when you were really only privy to a secret that they wanted forgotten. You shake your head. It doesn't really matter now what you were; all that matters is what you are, and what you have to be to live.

So you decide to go on a journey to get provisions, and then he comes with you. Another girl tells you to stay away, he's going to be hers, and you're more than happy to let her at him. After all, you never cared much for him or his silly nicknames, which annoyingly seem to be catching on.

You learn a lot on that trip. You don't really want to like him, but his smile is infectious. For some reason, he's got eyes for you, and when he slips you a flower, you don't want to grin, but you feel the corners of your mouth tilting up anyway. You try to remind yourself of his more infuriating traits, but those seem to be evolving too into things that might make him a good person.

And do you really want him to be a good person? You could use allies here, after all, and everyone else thinks you're some spoiled upper class brat who always does what she's told.

Later, when one of your people needs help, he doesn't want to go at first. You're dealing with yet another asshole, only this one is charismatic as Hell and already has a following. _Whatever the Hell we want_, they chant, and you can't help but curse the whole batch of idiots. But they're the only family you have here, and someone has to be responsible. And that's just it, isn't it? It's in your nature to be the mom of the pack, the leader of the bunch.

He doesn't want to come on the rescue mission, and you tell him that your quarry once looked up to him. He should be ashamed. Minutes later, when you're already being bullied, he suddenly shows up, seeming a lot more like a hero than a nuisance. After that, he stays by your side, and you start to admire that carefree attitude, that disarming smile. He used to make you grind your teeth, but now he makes your eyes shine. You start to care.

You start to care too much. You start to fall too hard. And one day when he's upset – and you understand, because you're upset too – you tell him that he's not alone, and that you're there for him, and then it happens. You sleep together, and it's not just for the comfort of another body. It's for comfort from _him_, and comfort for _him_. And you start to think that there might be a reason you've wound up together here in the first place.

Only to have that tragically cut short when his girlfriend arrives. And she's so beautiful, and so secure. She's everything every woman wants to be, and she has history with him. And maybe you were just another notch on his bedpost.

She starts to suspect, and he tries to talk to you, but you're not having it. And then the unthinkable happens, and he's hurt. He's hurt _bad_, and here you are working hand-in-hand with his girlfriend to save him. And miraculously, you do save him, but when she stays there, monitoring him as he sleeps, your heart breaks a little more, until you're not sure if it was really whole to begin with.

It gets messy. He's persistent. He thinks you've started something, and you assure him that no, nothing has started, and his girlfriend would surely not appreciate this. But she's smart. She can tell it's over. And he confesses that he loves, but it's too late. He's hurt you too much.

Throughout it all, you don't know how you feel. Your heart was broken when you came down here, and now it's broken again, and you're too busy shouldering the responsibility of the world to even stop and assess how you really feel. And then you're separated. You find yourself in a tricky situation, your friends lulled into comfort, but you have to escape, and you flee. You manage to find some old friends, but he's not there. He's out looking for you, they say. He went to find you.

You finally find him, but he's not the same. He's changed. He's an extreme version of himself, driven to something almost crazy in your absence. And when he looks at you with those wild eyes, you take a step back, because this side of him scares you.

There are consequences to what he's done. Everyone has to face the music when the time comes, and he knows that it's his time now. But you refuse to believe it. But deep down, he's always been a good guy, an idealistic guy, and he knows when sacrifice is righteous versus when it's necessary. And it's necessary now.

But before they can pull the trigger, you have one last minute to make it right. And you kiss him, and tell him that you return his love even though your own heart is too shattered to even know how it feels, and you mercifully end him before he can feel any more pain.

And you wonder how you got here. How you started to fall for him, and did you ever start to love him? Did you ever stop? And you wonder how he's the only who saw you when you were just a privileged princess to everyone else, incurably sad and alone. And you know nothing will ever be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2: Lifeline

A/N: So, this was going to just be a one-shot after the midseason finale, but I've sorta just decided to make it an anthology of one-shots, most of which are going to be Bellarke. This one takes place immediately after the first one-shot, which is after "Spacewalker." Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own The 100 or its characters.

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><p><span><strong>LIFELINE<strong>

You're drowning. You're haunted by the sound of Raven's wail. It was gutwrenching, like someone was ripping your heart out over and over and all you can do is sit there and think, _I deserve this_. You try to sleep, but every time you close your eyes, you see Finn's frightened face, staring at you, telling you he's scared. And then you end it all, because you're the leader, because you have to, because you might have loved him.

You haven't slept in days, and it's affecting you. You're in the med bay, with your mother and her aid Jackson, stitching up a nasty cut that Murphy got while hunting. You're so distracted and fatigued that you accidentally stab a little too hard during one suture, and he flinches, pained. "Geez, Princess. I know I'm not your favorite person, but I thought doctors were supposed to have a soft touch."

And you're so exhausted and vulnerable that you actually burst out into tears. Murphy looks panicked. "Oh, Clarke, God, I'm sorry. I was just kidding. Really, it doesn't hurt."

You can't stop crying, and you're apologizing to Murphy when suddenly there's a hand on your shoulder. "Let's go, Princess."

"Would everyone just stop _calling me that_?!" you shout, and then you're a little embarrassed, because everyone is looking at you funny. You sniff, looking over your shoulder, and Bellamy is there. For some reason, this makes you cry harder, and he puts his other hand around your waist, gently urging you to stand up and come outside for some air. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jackson hurrying over to finish Murphy, and your incompetence embarrasses you.

Bellamy guides you over to a quiet area near one of the outer walls. Your crying has stopped, and now you just feel heavy, like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. You're sure there are tear tracks on your face, and you try to scrub at one cheek. "God, Clarke. C'mon, get a grip," he says gruffly.

You feel like this would be yet another catalyst for tears to most people, but that one statement contains so much tough love, and is just so… so _Bellamy_ that a sudden laugh bubbles up. The sound takes you by surprise, but it takes him by surprise too, a small smile alights his face. It's gentle, tender, and so unlike the co-leader you know that you both find yourself looking at each other, completely surprised by what you're seeing.

And that's the first step to telling him when he asks, _What's going on? What's wrong?_ Because something is wrong. Most days you feel like you can hardly breathe, that the weight of responsibility and guilt is pulling you under the water faster than you can tread. You couldn't save Finn, and when others look at you, it's with pity in their eyes; when Raven looks at you, it's with hatred.

But he turns it around on you, just like he always does. Because he's a pain in the ass that way, isn't he? He tells you that your actions were brave, and selfless. Everyone knew how you cared for the Spacewalker, he says. Everyone knew how much it hurt you to kill him, but you did it for them. And it's not pity in their eyes, he says, but gratitude, and perhaps guilt themselves, because how can they ever to do for you what you've done for them? But that's how being a leader works. He smirks, and it lifts you.

You don't hug. You don't embrace. That's not how you two work. Instead, you go back to the medical tent, where Jackson has finished Murphy's stitches, and you move on to the next patient.

A few days later, Bellamy comes to check up on you again. You huff, but you feel better, because here is someone who knows how you really and truly feel and sticks around anyway. He has a plan to rescue your people from Mt. Weather, and the possibility of freeing your people also frees your mind. It distracts you, keeps your treacherous thoughts at bay, and memories begin to gather like dust, ready to blow away in the wind once you finally let them go.

You mount an attack. You sneak in, side by side with the Grounders, and you destroy their Harvest Sanctuary. You get your friends back. You're reunited with Monty, and Jasper, and Miller, and it's almost all right until they ask, _Where's Finn?_ And then you remember, and it hurts.

Later, when you're celebrating your victory, you drink moonshine, but only a few swallows. You run into Raven. You haven't even really spoken to her since That Night. She's refused to see you, and when you have passed one another, she's shot you looks of hatred, looks of betrayal, and you've felt that you deserved it. Tonight she's drunk, and though she seems sad, she also seems aggressive. She confronts you.

"You killed him," she says. "You killed him with _my _knife."

"We couldn't have escaped," you whisper. "He would have died anyway. This is what we needed. This is what he wanted."

And she screams at you, and slaps you across the face. Your head whips to the side, and you feel arms enclosing around you. She's holding you, sobbing, and you're crying too. And the two of you cry together for a boy you once loved, and who loved both of you in the best way he knew how.

After that, Raven apologizes for hitting you. You've made your peace with her, though, so you forgive and forget easily. You tell her you wish this had happened sooner. Because now, finally, you feel more of the guilt lifting away from you.

You move away from the merriment. "Lighten up, Clarke," you hear, and you turn to see Bellamy making his way toward you with more moonshine. It's oddly reminiscent of Unity Day just after the 100 touched down, and the corners of your mouth turn up.

"So bossy, Bellamy," you say. He's drunk, and smiling, all swagger and languid charm. "Hanging out with me won't make you cooler. You should know that by now."

"I'm pretty use to being an outcast," he chirps, bumping his shoulder into yours. "It adds to my charm."

And it just might. You clink glasses and take another sip, letting the potent drink warm you right down to your center. "Thanks," you say. He just smiles, looping his hand lazily around your waist as you look out into the night.

And he might think you mean for the drink, but really it's for so much more than that. It's for not pitying you, or treating you differently. It's for pushing you, and distracting you. It's for just being there for you. It's for giving you hope, enough to stay afloat, enough to tread water. And you're not swimming yet, but you're not drowning anymore, either. And it could be that he's your lifeline if you ever start to go under again.


End file.
